Several of my earliest, clearest, memories have a common key figure, Lady, the family pet Springer Spaniel.
I will admit that I hadn’t wanted that dog; I just knew that she was biding her time to get me alone and eat me. But because my parents figured they could easily get a kid just like me if ever they were foolish enough to want another, they over-ruled my objections and brought Lady home from the SPCA (see Lady, the Man Eater).
Once home, she immediately took over the back yard. My brothers and I would go out to run and play and she would join in. Energetically. With little regard for the life or limb of my precious self it seemed.
Like the time Barry, Jeff and I were running and playing on the back lawn at the house on Kennedy street. Throwing a ball, playing “keep away” with Lady. Running and laughing. Lady was chasing, panting and growling.
When suddenly I hit the grass flat on my back.
And though I have never been able to prove it, I have always suspected that Jeff tripped me. Cause at the pound Jeff was as sure he wanted the little dog “Puddles” as I had been. And deep inside I suspect he wanted “Puddles” for the same reason I did; he was just as sure as I was that Lady intended to eat him.
It is understandable that in a pack of wild creatures , the weakest is often sacrificed so that the rest of the pack can escape harm. There are few people that knew my brothers and I that had any doubts that we qualified as a wild pack back then. And at this particular time, being only about 3 years old, I certainly qualified as the weakest.
Time and maturity forgives most nefarious deeds, and thus I have forgiven Jeff the act of “throwing me to the wolves“ as it were.
But back to the memory.
Some 54 years later, I can still feel my shoulder blades sink slightly into the soft turf as I hit the ground. And the tangible slight damp of early morning grass, sharp pin points against my cheek and neck. Minor scratchiness too. Fresh scent of open savanna swelling off of the crushed stems.
Crystalline blue sky encompassing my entire realm of sight. Sparkles set off as the light reflected around and through the edges of my thick glasses. Floating white puff balls of cloud. Shape of a soaring hawk.
Sounds of birds, and children laughing. Somewhere the tinkling notes of the Ice Cream truck cruising the streets of the neighborhood.
An idyllic moment of sight, sound and feeling forever encoded in the essence of my nature.
Until the jarring vision of a ball rising directly above me intrudes; and the slow motion, hairy, padded foot that hove into view, hung for an instant in time and ever so slowly grew in size as it descended to blot out the entire sky and land, sharply nailed toes first, on my left eyeglass lens, punching it out of the frame and into my eye.
Copyright © 2015 - Marty Vandermolen - All Rights Reserved
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